“You’ll never be empty.” I press down on her breast, over her heart. “Not here, anyways. I don’t care if you love me. I’ll love you enough for both of us.”
She swallows. Her eyes glimmer. “Stop it.”
“Why? Are my words hitting too close to home?”
“If you keep talking like that, I’m going to cry, and then I’ll have to kill you. Nobody gets to see my tears and live. Dagon was the last name on that list.”
I chuckle. Softly, at first, then with increasing fervor until I’m releasing full-belly, boisterous laughs.
She smacks my shoulder. “Shut up.”
“Sorry, Flame.” I bury my face in her neck. “Can’t. I loved the old you, but I love the new you even more.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Max
Progress isn’t linear. I learn the true definition of that over the following days and weeks.
Frankly, it seems like Ember’s been hanging on the cusp of a mental breakdown for many years, and now, it’s finally hit. Dealing with her is like dealing with an insane case of whiplash.
Her first tantrum comes the morning after her negotiation with Cain. It leaves me gritting my teeth and reminding myself that everything’s a process, and that Ember never really got to be a teenager or young adult. She went straight from child to responsible parent to assassin.
She shouts at me over not making the bed, snarks that Creature—Greg—needs a bath, and then shuts herself in the bathroom.
She absolutely deserves a hard spanking for that bullshit, but now isn’t the time to focus in on our dynamic. It’s time to give her the space she needs to start to heal, and to let her feel her feelings the way she never got to.
The day after that is better. She’s contrite, even talks with me about a few of her memories and asks questions to fill in the gaps. I happily oblige her.
The next day is bad again. The following one is good. I spend every spare second I have with her, pushing off heaps of my workload to Greyson. The one thing I can’t put off is the strategy meets with Cain, which have two focal points; extracting Azalea and taking over the remainder of Dagon’s operation. Azalea comes first, though.
I truly feel bad for the woman. Cain’s obsession with her has led her to a world of unimaginable pain—and I can’t imagine it’ll get any better once she’s pulled out of one prison and locked directly into another.
After about a week, Ember decides to go to Scarlett’s greenhouse with her. It’s a struggle not to personally accompany them, but I let Greyson keep an eye on them in my stead.
That night, Ember comes onto me for the first time. It’s late—she’s in my arms, breaths even, imitating sleep—but the way she rubs her ass against my cock tells me that she’s very much awake, and feeling needy.
“Flame.” My voice is rough. “Don’t start something you won't want to finish.”
“I’m horny. You're hot and in the same bed. I wantboth of usto finish.”
“Before you get fucked, you’re getting a major fucking punishment. So, unless you’re ready to deal with the latter, don’t initiate the former.” I’m not going to punish her for her mood swings and tantrums—I’ve decided that the best course of actions is to let those slide. Her punishment will be for going back to Dagon willingly, for choosing to abandon me, and I’m not going to take it easy on her. I might’ve shelved my anger for the time being, but I still have a score to settle with her for the shit she pulled.
“Then punish me.” She doesn’t sound anywhere near as concerned as she ought to be.
My eyes fully open. Electricity zings through my veins. “If you want that, you better be kneeling at the foot of the bed in the next five seconds.”
As expected, she doesn’t, which tells me everything I need to know. “We’ll try again tomorrow night before bed.”
She sighs, but manages to relax.
She doesn’t kneel the following night.
Or the one after that.
In fact, it takes another week before I find her kneeling at the foot of the bed.
It’s the night before the op to extract Azalea, and I finally find her where I want her. Naked, hands neatly positioned on her thigh, gaze firmly trained on the floor.
